


Love long lost

by Nohrian



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Lots of hurt with eventual comfort, M/M, Major Story Spoilers, Not compliant with the epilouge, probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2019-08-28 03:22:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16715684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nohrian/pseuds/Nohrian
Summary: SPOILERSIn which Charles receives Arthur’s old journal from John and it brings up lots of emotions.





	1. Chapter 1

"Remember how I told you I got Arthur's journal?" John asked one night as they sat around the fire. 

Charles looked from the fire he was poking at to John, giving him a nod. Of course, he remembered. John mentioning that journal made Charles feel like an old wound had been ripped open. It was the first time he spoke about Arthur in years. 

"I remember," Charles confirmed, turning his attention back to the fire, poking at the burning logs within the flames. 

"Well, I read a bit of it. Just opened it, see what his thoughts were in those last few days." John went on to explain. Next thing Charles knew, John's outstretched hand was offering the journal to him. 

"I think he'd want you to have it," John explained. 

Charles stared at the journal for a moment in silence. He dropped his stick, slowly reaching out and taking it. 

"I'll leave you to it," John announced as he stood, pausing a moment to stretch before turning in for the night. 

Uncle had turned in about an hour ago, so now it was just Charles and the journal. 

Charles caught Arthur more than once writing or sketching in this. While he would hide the journal from most people, closing it when they got too close, he didn't always react the same way to Charles. 

Of course Charles never tried to peak in the journal for privacy reasons. He only ever caught glimpses of sketches and neat handwriting on accident.

So sitting here now, the leather bound journal in his hands, it almost felt wrong. It no doubt held Arthur's most intimate thoughts, ones he hid from other people. Would it be intrusive? It wasn't like Arthur ever gave him permission to read it. 

But John has obviously seen something inside of it he believed Charles should see. It wasn't John's place to give him permission though. 

Charles simply stared at the journal, terribly conflicted. 

\---

It was three days before Charles opened it. 

Three days of pondering it, weighing the pros and the cons. 

Each of those days, a sense of longing rose up in Charles. It rose to the point that it was suffocating. A lot of people in that gang had the honor of knowing Arthur for years. Charles had only a few months. While Charles had been in the gang close to a year when it collapsed, he only really started to interact with Arthur after Blackwater. 

It was in the Grizzlies, on their first hunting trip together. Charles guided him through it, keeping calm and encouraging whenever Arthur made a mistake. 

Remembering that only made the longing grow. 

That hunting trip was when Charles truly started to learn about Arthur. But that was only the beginning. 

Arthur and Charles spent more time together after that. More hunting trips, missions. Small talk around camp. 

Every time Charles was around Arthur, he learned something new. 

Like how he tried to seem tough and mean, but his attitude immediately softened when he spoke to close friends at camp. 

Charles watched as Arthur played games with them, laughed with them, celebrated with them. And when things got bad, Charles seen Arthur mourn with them.

On more than one occasion, Charles seen Arthur giving things to his friends. Whether it was an herb they needed or a replacement for something they lost in Blackwater.

Charles listened as Arthur joked around with people. Listened as he checked up on everyone. 

Charles saw how he would help Jack when he was having trouble reading a book, or when he would comfort Tilly whenever Miss Grimshaw got a little too angry at her, or check up on Hosea after particularly nasty coughing fits.

Times when everyone was celebrating and singing, Charles never missed the way Arthur would mumble most of the words, only being able to properly sing the easier parts. 

The way Arthur would stop to pet the dog, and how he was extra gentle with his horse. He spent so much time caring for it, brushing it, giving it treats and encouragements. 

Charles learned all of that and more. 

And yet, he wanted to learn even _more_. 

So, he opened the journal on a random page. 

It was a drawing of Beaver Hollow. 

Charles simply stared in awe at the drawing. Beaver Hollow was an awful place. It was the final camp, the total end of the gang. There was so much negativity, anger, and fear associated with that place.

But Arthur made it look beautiful.

Charles stared at the drawing taking in every beautiful line, every amazing detail. 

He flipped the page after a few minutes. 

His awe and amazement were quickly replaced with sorrow when he read the first line of the journal entry. 

'Molly ratted us out. Dutch broke her heart so she told the law about us' it read. 

It was painful, thinking back to that day. Even more painful now that John explained Micah was the real rat. Molly was simply a broken-hearted woman. 

Charles closed the journal, deciding it was enough for now. He didn't think he was quite ready to open up all these old wounds. 

Not just yet. 

He stored it safely with the rest of his belongings, then turned in for the night. There was work to be done in the morning.

 

\---

Two days later is when Charles got time to read it again. He was too busy working on the house of the day and too exhausted at night to do anything but sleep. 

Today was a lighter day, though. He was tired, but not so much that he couldn't read the journal. 

Deciding to skip that page, Charles read past it. 

Charles read about Arthur's thoughts on Eagle Flies and Rains Fall, on helping them and the whole tribe. 

There was also a sketch of Captain Monroe, a man Charles and Arthur had saved. There was also a breathtaking sketch of Wapiti. 

Then, Charles flipped to a page that hurt. 

'Charles left, I reckon. Went with the Wapiti tribe to help them.' Charles had to pause for a moment. He always felt bad, about leaving. Leaving Arthur. 

Arthur had offered to stay and help. Charles wanted nothing more than to take him up on that offer. Load Arthur up, take him away from Dutch and Micah, and let him live the rest of his days in peace. 

But he couldn't. People still needed Arthur. Taking Arthur away from people who needed him would have been selfish. 

So, Charles declined. Explained that people still needed him. 

And with a final, lingering embrace, they said their final goodbyes. 

Charles knew it was the end. He knew he wouldn't see Arthur again. 

Charles watched for a moment as Arthur rode away. Then, he turned to the people of Wapiti, who needed him. As he began to gently instruct them to pack, his voice began to break.

Because he knew he just said goodbye to the man he really cared for. 

Emotions were building up, but Charles decided to tough this one out. To finish reading the page. 

Charles gave himself a moment before looking back down to the page. 

'I wanted to stay with him, but I knew I couldn't. He was right, people needed me. Good people. Even though I am gonna miss him, I'm really glad he got away. I just hope he can live happy.'

Charles closed the journal, shutting his eyes tightly to keep the tears in. 

He missed Arthur so much.

\---

Charles didn't get a chance to read the journal again until the house was built. It was a beautiful house, something Charles was proud to help build. 

"You've got a home too, Charles, as long as you'll stay with us." John graciously offered. 

"Thank you." Charles was honored by the offer. A home, a real home. 

Not a tent, or a bedroll, or a hotel room for the night. A home, a place to stay, permanence. 

Charles would definitely have to think about it. 

That night, as they slept indoors, Charles pulled out the journal. 

For a good while, he stared at it. Reading it was both amazing and painful at the same time. 

It was like he was getting some extra time with Arthur. Learning more about him, viewing the missions from his point of view. It was wonderful. It helped satiate a need Charles had had for too long. 

But it also hurt, seeing all the weight Arthur carried. How he truly thought he was a bad man who didn't deserve a kind afterlife. 

Yes, Arthur did bad things. All of them did, including Charles himself. Not a single person in that gang was innocent, except for Jack. 

But in the end, Arthur turned himself around. Became someone Charles looked up to, someone he cared very deeply for.

Finally, he opened the journal. This time, he went back, leafed through some sketches. He decided not to read anymore just yet. This was the last thing he had left of Arthur, he wanted to take his time. 

Charles wasn't ready to lose all of Arthur again. He wasn't ready to have nothing else to learn anymore. No more beautiful sketches, or neat handwriting that told tales through his point of view. 

Tales of missions Dutch sent him on, to personal missions where he would help out a complete stranger in need. 

Sometimes, it wasn't a tale at all. It was just simple words explaining a part of his day that he felt should be written in the journal.

No matter how grand or simple the entry was, Charles cherished it all. Every word.


	2. Chapter 2

_"So he, or- she? I'm still not exactly sure, sent me to find the zebra," Arthur explained, one hand cupped and full of raspberries, "Wanna know what I found?"_

_Charles glanced up from his arrows to Arthur, amusement glinting in his eyes, "What'd you find, Arthur?"_

_"A God damned mule! Painted up to look like a zebra, poor thing." Arthur took a raspberry, plopping it into his mouth, "Margaret said something about tricking the viewer's eye, illusions and all that. Then sent me to find his assistant, tiger and one of the lions."_

_The smile on Charles' face grew a bit, "Oh? And did you find them?"_

_"Yup found 'em all right," he answered, "The 'lion'- which was actually a damn dog- was killed by the 'tiger'."_

_"Well, what was the tiger?" Charles asked, starting to get more and more interested as the story went on._

_"A damned cougar! They painted the thing to look like a tiger." Arthur explained, holding his hand out, offering one of the small fruits to his partner._

_Charles took one, tossing it into his mouth. "Did you get it back for him?"_

_"Yup. Used the dead dog as bait." Arthur explained, "But, there was one more lion left. Said it was probably somewhere near Emerald Ranch."_

_"Was this 'lion' alive when you found it?" Charles asked._

_"Oh, yeah. It was alive." Arthur spoke, his tone sounding haunted._

_Charles chuckled under his breath, "You like dogs, don't you? Should have been fun for you."_

_"Charles, I know what I'm about to say is gonna sound crazy, but it's real." Arthur began, "I swear to the Lord God Almighty, it's true."_

_Charles looked to him now, "You aren't about to tell me it was a real lion, are you?"_

_"It was! A real fucking lion!" Arthur insisted, "Damn thing nearly killed me. I made it out better than some of the livestock and people there, though."_

_Charles stared at him, speechless. "You faced a damn lion?"_

_"Yes I did," Arthur reached into his satchel with his free hand, "My dumb ass thought it was a dog- I walked in telling those fools it was a dog. Shoulda saw their faces, Charles." Arthur pulled out a trinket, holding it up for Charles to see. "Had this made from its paw," he explained._

_Charles took it and carefully examined it._

_"Arthur Morgan, you're a fool," Charles said as he handed the trinket back. "A very lucky fool."_

_"I can agree with that," He spoke, scooting closer to Charles and bumping their shoulders together, "Real lucky." He spoke, taking another raspberry, offering the last one to Charles._

_Charles accepted it with a smile._

Reading the journal entry about Margaret brought back one of Charles' fondest memories. While Charles had to admit hearing the story in person from Arthur was much more amusing, the entry was lovely, too. Charles could just feel Arthur's exasperation through the page. It brought a smile to his face.

Arthur told him that story one night as they sat by the fire of a small camp they built. It was during one of their hunting trips, the trips that Charles always cherished. It was the only time they got alone to explore their feelings. 

Clemens Point is when Charles realized his feelings. It was a couple of weeks after they set up camp there that Charles realized he felt something for Arthur.

Soon after, Arthur realized there was something there, too. 

So whenever they could, they would head out on hunting trips to try and figure these feelings out. Discover how deep the feelings ran. 

Stopping to set up camp was Charles' favorite part. Those nights were always great. Some nights it was crazy stories that no one else would believe, but Charles did because it was Arthur telling it. Other nights, it was kisses and touches as they explored boundaries. 

Charles enjoyed both kinds of nights. He used to enjoy them a lot. 

Remembering things like that made him feel an overwhelming sense of want. He wanted those things back. Those nights around a fire, just him and Arthur. Those stories, those touches, those kisses. All of it. 

But, he knew he couldn't have those things back. He had the journal, though. And he cherished it. He was more grateful than words could describe that John gave it to him. Eventually, he'd have to thank him for it. 

For giving him what felt like a little more time with Arthur. 

Charles closed the journal for the night, clasping it shut and returning it where it belonged, carefully tucked away with his things.

\---

Since work on the house was finished, it was decided a small break was in order. It had been a few days since their break began, and Charles was already starting to miss work. It felt good, doing an honest day's work.

But, this little break was giving him more time to read the journal, so he was content for now.

Stepping out on to the porch he was met with John. 

"Morning." Charles greeted, stepping forward to stand beside John. 

"Morning Charles." John greeted, glancing his way for a moment. "So, I decided to plant the crops over there. Seems like a good place." He explained as he pointed to his desired spot of land.

Charles examined it for a moment before nodding, "Seems good." 

John nodded in agreement before turning to Charles, "Uncle's been mentioning getting some livestock. I reckon he thinks it'll make this place a proper ranch."

"It sounds like a decent idea." Charles said, "If you're up for it."

"I think I am. Buying a barn means more debt, but... I want this place to be nice. For Abigail and Jack." John turned his gaze back to the land, "I ain't done right by them, not really. I wanna change that."

"You already have, my friend." Charles followed John's gaze, surveying the land. "This house, this land. You've done well." He paused for a moment, "Arthur would be really glad, you know."

"It's because of him that I'm even here right now, on this land. I sure hope he would be glad." John spoke, falling silent for a moment. "I miss that old bastard, you know. Think about him all the time."

"I miss him too," Charles admitted, his voice falling soft. Thinking of Arthur was one thing, but talking about him was something else. Charles hadn't spoken about Arthur to anyone, not since he had passed. There wasn't really anyone he could speak to about Arthur. But now that he had found Uncle and John, he could talk about him again. 

It was hard to talk about him sometimes, Charles found out. It could be painful, and it always left him feeling emotional on some degree. Even with all of that, Charles still wanted to talk about him, remember him. He wasn't going to let Arthur simply become a memory because it was painful to talk about him. 

One day, it wouldn't hurt so bad, he hoped. He knew it would always hurt, he just hoped it would ease over time. 

John looked to Charles for a moment before he began walking. He gave him a pat on the back as he passed, "I'm gonna go talk to Uncle about that barn."

Charles gave a slight nod, "Sounds good."

\---

It was over an hour before Uncle finally made it back. 

"Hi, Charles!" The older man cheerfully greeted as he rode his horse up to the hitching post, "Hope you're ready for some work!"

"Always," Charles answered easily as he watched Uncle slip off the horse and hitch him.

"Good answer! Cause John finally took my advice and bought a barn," Uncle explained, "We met Mrs. Adler in town, and John ran off with her to collect some money for debts," He went on, "So we hired plenty of help! They should be arriving any time with the barn. Precut, just like the house."

Charles nodded along as Uncle spoke to show he was listening, "Well, with enough help, we could probably have this done pretty quickly."

"That's the spirit!" Uncle chuckled. "With a barn, this place'll finally be a proper ranch! Who'd have ever thought that John Marston, of all people, would own a ranch?"

"A few years ago I never would have thought he would come this far," Charles admitted, "But I'm glad. He and his family deserve this." In the distance, Charles spotted the wagons carrying the supplies for the barn, so he went to grab the tools.

\---

Fortunately, the barn was built without a hitch. A lot faster than the house, thanks to the workers.

In all honesty, Charles enjoyed the time they spent working on the house, so he wasn't exactly complaining about how long it took.

Charles was up on the ladder, working on the finishing touches when he heard the barn doors open below. 

"Back from your holiday, I see," Uncle spoke, and Charles heard an annoyed sigh that belonged to non-other than John. 

"I was out making money, old man," John shot back.

Before the argument could escalate, Charles made his way down the ladder, "Everything go alright?" He asked. 

"Yup. Made some money to help pay the debts," John answered. "This barn though...It's incredible. Thank you, Charles." 

"Well, the crew did help." Charles stepped back to admire the barn, and John did the same. 

"The house, the barn... This place is starting to shape up." John stared at the barn for a moment longer before looking to Charles, "Really, thank you." He repeated, turning his gaze to Uncle, "Thank you both."

"Gentlemen, I do believe this calls for a drink," Uncle announced as he came over, handing out glasses.

After clinking their glasses together for a quick cheers, Charles took a drink.

"Young miss at dancing school is taught the minuet to tread," Uncle began to sing. 

Charles couldn't help a small smile from forming as he took another drink, listening as both John and Uncle began to sing. 

"Young miss at dancing school is taught the minuet to tread," They repeated as the trio made for the house. "But we go better when we've brought our foretack to cathead," Charles joined along because it was time to celebrate. They had come far. Worked hard and honest, and Charles was happy. For the first time in a long while, he was really, truly happy.

"Come bustle, bustle, drink about and let us merry be," The three sang as they entered the house.

It was shaping up to be a pretty fun night.

\---

Waking up the next morning wasn't very fun at _all_ , Charles found out as he pushed himself up off the floor with a quiet groan. He glanced around to see John was still asleep a few feet away, but Uncle was nowhere to be seen. 

With how his head was pounding, Charles decided to rest for a moment before searching for him. He lowered his head into his hands, letting out another soft groan. 

At least the bits and pieces he can remember from the night before seemed fun. And he hadn't had fun in a while, so he decided maybe this wasn't too harsh a price to pay. 

The last time he remembered having any true fun was the last time he and Arthur were alone for a hunting trip. That night might not have been full of drinking, singing and celebrating, but it _was_ a night with just him and Arthur, full of kisses and intimate touches. Honestly, that was Charles' definition of fun.

Those memories brought a smile to his face as he stood, stretching his worn muscles before setting off to find where Uncle had wandered off to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charles being so sad bums me out so I had to add a happy memory with him and Arthur! Gotta give my man some happiness. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed! Thanks for reading <3


	3. Chapter 3

Rescuing Uncle brought back a lot of feelings. Feelings he tried to ignore. 

Charles tried to ignore them as he and John snuck through the trees, trying to locate Uncle. He tried to ignore them as he and John silently took out a couple of the Skinners. He tried to ignore them as they silently followed along behind a wagon, dragging some poor bastard behind it. He refused to let the nagging feelings distract him from the mission. 

Luckily, they quieted down when they saw Uncle. When he and John killed all the Skinners at the camp, the feelings didn't try to distract him. He was able to focus clearly the entire ride back to Beecher's Hope. 

Getting Uncle back home alive was a huge relief. Charles felt the tension drain from his body as he escorted Uncle inside and to a bed to recover. 

Upon stepping outside, he saw John staring at the road, hand hovering about his revolver. 

"Uncle's gonna be just fine," Charles spoke.

"Good." John glanced at Charles. "Do you think they'll be back?"

"I doubt it. We must have killed most of 'em." Charles answered, crossing his arms. "This is your land, John."

"Was it theirs once?" John finally tore his gaze from the road and turned it to Charles.

"No. I heard some folks talking in Blackwater. They rode down here about three years ago." Charles answered, "They're just angry men on a rampage."

"Heh," John let out a small, humorless laugh. "Like we used to be?"

"Exactly like we used to be." He nodded, "We're gonna be safe here. You and you're family? You're gonna be safe." Charles spoke, and he spoke genuinely. There's no way Charles would lie to John, especially about the safety of his family. 

John's nerves seemed to be calmed by those words, at least a little. "I really hope so." After sparing one last glance to the road, just to make sure they weren't followed, John walked away.

\---

That night, when it was quiet and Charles was alone, he was able to understand his feelings earlier. The feelings that threatened to steal his focus. 

It was fear. 

Something Charles hadn't felt in so, so long. 

Charles never feared for himself. He could handle himself. While he wasn't scared, he also wasn't cocky. He knew to be careful and cautious, he knew he wasn't invincible. But he wasn't ever truly scared. Not for himself. 

But, all those years ago, in the gang, Charles did feel fear. 

He always knew death was looming over them. Wherever they were, danger was close behind. 

The first few months of the gang were smooth. Some injuries here, or a shootout there, but it was tame. Tame compared to what happened after Blackwater. 

They lost Jenny, and Davey, and Mac. 

But Charles refused to let Sean die. He may not have been close to the loud-mouthed young man, but he was only just that, a young man. One Charles wasn't going to let die. Not like the others. 

But in the end, it happened anyways. 

The same with Kieran. Charles wasn't there to help him, either.

Honestly, though, he couldn't decide what was more painful. Not being there to help, or watching it happen in front of you without being able to do a damn thing about it. 

Like watching Hosea get shot down and writhe in pain on the ground. 

Or poor Lenny, turning his back for just a single moment. 

He still remembers the way Arthur screamed, the way he took those Pinkertons down in seconds. The way he lingered next to Lenny's body, longer than any of the others. 

The fear of losing someone he cared for, someone he saw as a friend was tough to deal with. And nearly losing Uncle brought that fear back.

Now, he was stuck dwelling with all the old memories. Of all the times he was afraid in that gang, not for himself, but for others. 

The way he feared for everyone in the gang, being misguided by Dutch. Then his fear extended for the people of Wapiti who were being manipulated by Dutch. Used, as if they were nothing more than pawns in Dutch's twisted game.

The way he feared for Arthur when he got back from Guarma with a nasty cough. With each day that Arthur's illness grew, so did Charles' fear. 

When Arthur admitted to Charles that he was dying, it was no surprise to Charles. He knew. Just by looking at Arthur, it was obvious. He was so pale, tired and thin those last weeks. Even though he knew, the words still felt like a stab in the heart to Charles. To hear Arthur actually say it made it that much more real. And Charles was scared to lose him. 

Each night, when Charles lay down to sleep, he was scared. Scared that he would wake up in the morning and Arthur would be dead. That Arthur wouldn't be with him anymore. He was scared of losing the man he loved.

Then his fear reached its peak when he made it to that mountain. When he saw Arthur's beloved horse lying dead at the bottom of it. With each step he took forward, his heart thumped painfully in his chest, loudly in his ears. His hands were shaking, his breathing grew shaky. Because he knew what he'd see. He just knew Arthur was really gone. Knew it was the end.

And what he saw would forever be burned into his brain. 

With a sigh, Charles pulled himself out of his thoughts. He didn't want to think about that. He didn't want to think about the end, about how the last image he had of Arthur in his mind was of him lying dead. 

With a shake of his head, Charles lay down on his bedroll. Maybe he'd be lucky enough to find sleep. To get away from these thoughts. 

For a while, he lay there. Eyes closed, but thoughts racing. When he opened his eyes again, he noticed Arthur's journal lying next to his suitcase. Must have forgotten to put it away the night before. 

Reaching out, he placed a hand on it, scooting closer. Once it was lying next to him, he closed his eyes again, hand resting atop the journal. While he was in no mood to read it, to exhausted from the days' events and his nagging thoughts, it was nice to have it close. Comforting, in a way, to have his hand rest somewhere that Arthur's had before. 

This journal had brought immense comfort, and he supposed it was still finding ways to do that.

With a soft sigh, he closed his eyes in an attempt to sleep again. 

This time, sleep did find him.

\---

A few days later, maybe around four since the incident with Uncle, Abigail came back. 

Charles was out in the corral behind the barn, caring for his horse. While brushing away the dirt and dust from their ride earlier that morning, he heard voices. He walked over to the fence, where he could see the house. He looked just in time to see Abigail jump into John's arms, and it brought a smile on his face. He watched them for a moment before returning to his horse, brushing him again. 

Truly, he was happy for the Marston's. He was happy that they all survived and were together again. He was proud of how far they had come, proud of how they wanted to make something honest of their lives now. 

While he truly was happy, he still felt a sting of pain. Seeing them so happy made him think of what could have been with him and Arthur. Maybe they could have settled down on a ranch, or maybe even here on Beecher's Hope with the Marston's? They could have lived out their days peacefully and happily, tending to animals and living honestly. Leaving their past behind them, and starting something new. It was such a pretty thought. 

With a smile, he tried to imagine what Arthur's reaction to all this would be. He'd probably be surprised to see them change so much. Especially John, but he'd be proud. So, incredibly proud of how far his brother has come. 

"Wish you could see them now, Arthur." Charles murmured as he put the brush away, "You'd be so proud."

\---

Settling in was easy for them. John was happy to have his family back, and Abigail was absolutely beaming with happiness. Her home, her ranch, she loved them. And more then once, she had thanked Charles for his help.

Jack seemed to be having a more difficult time. The kid was still just taking it all in, Charles guessed. He'd probably come around. 

Things got a bit rocky the day before when Jack's dog got bit by a snake during a fishing trip. But Charles assumed things were resolved now, as the dog seemed to be doing well, and Jack didn't look upset anymore.

But this time, when he got back from picking up a couple of things in town, it was Abigail who was upset. The first time he had seen her anything but happy since she got here. 

He found her sweeping the porch with a scowl. For a moment, he stayed quiet. He wasn't sure if he should ask, but if there was something wrong he wanted to help. 

"Is everything alright, Abigail?" He asked, standing in front of the steps. 

"That stupid man is what's wrong," She grumbled, "Went off with Sadie to catch a bounty! Seems like he can't keep out of trouble."

"Ah." Charles gave a nod of understanding.

"He was so ready to go. I...I just worry." She admitted, gripping the broom handle tightly in her hands. "I know he took on this debt for us. And I know he went to make money to pay it off. I know all of this is for me and Jack, but... Sometimes I worry he'll never be able to fully let our old lives go. Runnin' around, shootin' people..."

Charles kept quiet and listened to her. Listened to her worries, her fear. "From what I saw while working with him to build this ranch, I believe he is ready to let it go. He worked hard for you two, and it was all honest work."

"I appreciate all the work he did. That you did, and Uncle, too. So much, I really do." Abigail spoke, "And from what Sadie said, this work is honest, too. But it's dangerous. If anything happened to that man, I...I don't know what I'd do, Charles."

"I understand." Charles spoke softly, "But he's smart, and he can handle himself. And you said he's with Sadie, yeah? I can't think of a better person to watch his back than her."

While he could see that Abigail was still tense, she did crack a small smile. "You're right...He'll be okay. Sadie'll keep him safe."

Charles gave her a smile. A small one, but reassuring. 

"Now, why don't you come in?" She went to the door, pushing it open. "Dinner should be done, come grab a bowl while it's hot."

"Sounds good," Charles followed along behind her.

\---

When John made his return just a few hours later, Charles was relieved to see he was alright. Though he didn't miss John's wince when Abigail hugged him. He didn't mention, either, deciding it wasn't worth upsetting Abigail.

It was late in the evening when John sought him out, finding him by the fire behind the house. Taking a seat across from Charles, he sighed, pressing a hand to his chest. 

"Are you hurt bad?" Charles asked, looking up from the fire to John.

"Nah. A bear got a couple hits in, but I'm fine. Certainly had worse." John answered, "Please, don't tell Abigail."

"I won't," Charles assured. He didn't want to make the poor woman worry any more than she already did, after all. 

John sat in silence, but there was something on his mind. Charles could just tell. He didn't say anything, though. He simply waited for John to speak.

And after a few minutes, he did. 

"Sadie said Micah might be around."

Charles' head snapped up immediately, "Really?"

John nodded, "Yeah. Someone fitting his description, anyway." He then added, "If it is him, he has his own gang now, apparently. "

"How could anyone possibly follow that twisted bastard?" Charles growled. He didn't usually get angry, but God, he hated Micah. Everything about that man made his skin crawl, his blood boil.

"I dunno. But if it is him, we gotta kill him. For everything he did. For destroying the gang, for ratting us out..." John listed, and his face grew grim. "I watched him kill Ms. Grimshaw. Then after that, he got Arthur killed. If Arthur hadn't stayed behind to stop the Pinkertons from catching me, maybe...Maybe it could have been different. But because Micah was a fucking rat..." John growled. 

"If he's here, he'll pay," Charles spoke, clenching his fists. As the words came out, he thought back to Arthur. How this isn't what Arthur would've have wanted. He wasn't one for vengeance and truthfully, Charles wasn't either. 

But then he remembered those final days. The way Micah would mock everyone, including Arthur. Each time Charles heard the words 'black lung' he wanted nothing more than to shoot Micah then and there. He remembered the deaths. Remembered John explaining how Molly was never the rat, it was Micah. The poor woman died for nothing. 

He remembered finding Ms. Grimshaw's body. While the woman could be harsh, she truly only wanted the best for the gang. And knowing Micah was the one to kill her...

"He'll pay," Charles repeated, turning his angry gaze back to the fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow it's been soooo long since I updated. I'm sorry y'all ;w;
> 
> Not super proud of this chapter, but I had to finally put something up! I hope everyone enjoyed <3
> 
> Thank you all for waiting so long! Thanks for the kudos and comments! I'm really bad at answering comments, but I read them all! Your kind words are what motivated me to continue this! I'll try to reply to comments, but if I don't, just know I read and appreciate every single one of them!
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Charles and Arthur are my absolute WEAKNESS I love these cowboys
> 
> I hope I didn’t make Charles too ooc, I tried ok ;w;
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!


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